


I sailed myself too far out to sea

by crookedspoon



Series: Exchange Fics [27]
Category: Aquaman (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Double Vaginal Penetration, Egg Preg, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Impreggnation, M/M, Multi, Non-Human Genitalia, Oviposition, Rape as Consequence of Defeat in Combat, Ritual Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 01:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19415791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: After he lost his battle against Orm, Arthur is kept prisoner. When he is taken out of his cell again, it is to be executed. Or so he thinks...





	I sailed myself too far out to sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LuciferxDamien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciferxDamien/gifts).



> Many, many thanks to stevie for the superb beta!
> 
> Content notes: features victim getting aroused and some Orm/Mera that nobody asked for.

Arthur doesn't like this.

The chamber he's being escorted into is spacious and vast in the way he's come to associate with Atlantis—and why wouldn't Atlantean architecture make use of the boundless space? Surface developers could only dream of the sprawling landscape they would find underwater—yet it has none of the high-tech minimalism he thought requisite for the place. In fact, this chamber might seem almost cozy if not for the two sets of armor that had surely belonged to ancient kings of Atlantis mounted opposite each other... and beneath a display of weaponry to rival that of the finest museum specializing in medieval armaments.

Nope, Arthur doesn't like this one bit. He had expected an execution for his failure to win his trial by combat, but he certainly hadn't envisioned it to be in a place like this. Not enough spectators for one thing and for another, the jellyfish lamps lining the walls at intervals cast the room into an almost sensual glow.

The floor at the entrance is smooth, polished rock leading up to what looks like natural ocean floor, with corals and algae and anemones and whatnot decorating the rough-hewn rock surrounding what appears to be an altar. This is surely where Arthur's head is gonna roll. The relaxing atmosphere could not fool him into forgetting that fact.

The guards holding his chains spread out on either side along the bulging walls. Mera follows them in the procession, regal and sombre, every bit the queen she is now, ignoring Orm—the uncontested king of Atlantis—at her arm, leading her not unlike his prison guards are leading Arthur.

If Arthur regrets anything it's that she would have to witness his execution. But only if it comes to that. He's eyeing the spears and fauchards lining the walls, thinking that if only he managed to reach them quickly enough, he might be able to take out his guards and then Orm. And then the rest of the royal guard that took up position on either side of the wide, scrollwork-covered doors.

Not that any of it would do him much good. There are more soldiers waiting outside those doors and it's unlikely that Arthur can best every guard in the garrison before hightailing it out of Atlantis. Still, to just lie back and accept his punishment rubs him the wrong way. There's gotta be something...

The walls and ceiling draw his attention all of a sudden as they grow less and less opaque, like a bubblegum blown out to huge proportions, opening up a grand vista of... Arthur is suddenly faced with thousands upon thousands of Atlanteans filling the tiered seating areas surrounding the chamber. Arthur flashes back to the blood-thirsty crowds filling the arena.

He swallows thickly behind the high collar keeping his neck stiff. Why have walls at all if you're going to make them see-through?

A wide, circular hole opens up in the ceiling and the voices of the Atlanteans swell as they watch Orm float through it, arms outstretched and commanding everyone's eyes.

"Citizens of Atlantis," he intones, "I welcome you all and thank you for coming in such large numbers to witness the final submission of the outsider who thought he could usurp the throne from me:, the trueborn heir of Atlantis."

The crowd cheers, thirsty for the blood Arthur expects them to have. This is not how Arthur ever imagined he was gonna go. At the bottom of the ocean, with not a friendly soul in sight.

Well, maybe one. And it's not Vulko. Who is nowhere around. Good, he shouldn't have to watch this. He's been Arhur's oldest friend.

Mera swims toward him, the tentacle-like pleats of her dress waving with every kick of her feet.

"It is going to be alright," she says and lays a hand on his arm even as Arthur is pulled backwards by his chains.

He is too stunned to express his skepticism in the arch of an eyebrow. Does she have an escape plan? If so, let's hear it. Arthur is more than ready to hit the road and leave Atlantis in the metaphorical dust.

The altar he finds himself tugged towards is inscribed with runes—or fancy squiggles, Arthur has no way of knowing the difference—and there are grooves along the edges that his chains hook into, effectively keeping him in place.

Mera comes to a halt at the foot of the altar and... two maids are helping her out of her dress?! It parts from her like—well, like waves. Arthur is no poet but he can appreciate a sight fit to inspire poets for ages to come all the same. Her long hair unravels from the coil at the top of her head like a spill of red ink, saturated and vivid against the softer colors in the background.

Maybe fighting his way out of here can wait.

Arthur feels himself shift before he sees the magic sparking in her eyes. His body grows heavier, as if no longer buoyed by the water, and he finds his back flattened against the surface of the altar. The runic squiggles begin to glow faintly.

Arthur's guards pull on his chains until he's lying spread-eagled like a starfish. Goosebumps explode across his skin as Mera runs her hands over his legs—and then rips his trousers in half like they were made of paper.

Arthur is not gonna lie but that turns him the fuck on.

"Interesting," she says, peering at his engorged length with the curiosity of a child. "They didn't teach us about _those_ differences of our peoples."

"Something wrong with it?" Arthur asks dubiously, and perhaps a trifle offended.

"Not that I would be aware of. This is my first time with a surface dweller." Mera smiles reassuringly.

Oh, so now he's a surface dweller again? Didn't she call on him to stand up to Orm in the first place because of his Atlantean blood?

Before he has the chance to make a snide comment, Mera positions herself over him, knees touching down on either side of his hips. "Don't worry. This will help you relax."

Arthur doesn't need to ask what will help him because the next instant Mera sinks down on his cock, all but knocking the breath out of him. Oh, okay. Wow. So this is really happening. In front of all those people.

Going by the way everyone else in the room as well as outside of it react to what's going on—which is to say not scandalized at all—Arthur can only surmise there are more cultural differences that Vulko failed to clue him in on. Is this some sort of replacement for his last meal before the execution?

Arthur doesn't know and, frankly, he doesn't care right now either. Mera feels unlike any woman he's ever been with, her insides bending and squeezing Arthur's cock in complicated but amazing ways. He grunts when he realizes he's still chained and can't touch her, can't grab her hips and guide them to grind against his.

Mera doesn't need guidance. Arthur groans as she begins riding him hard. He would not have expected to see stars this far down, but Mera makes them appear behind his eyes nonetheless. 

He'd all but forgotten about the spectators around them when Orm enters his peripheral vision with an arrogant smile on his face. Arthur guesses that's just his resting bitch face.

He circles the altar, examining them from every side, as Mera continues to undulate her hips, harsh breaths occasionally broken by long moans. Just as when they entered the chamber, Mera ignores him. He doesn't seem rankled. Rather, he seems amused.

"Does my wife please you, half-breed?" he asks, not really expecting an answer. He runs his fingers up her arm as he rounds behind her. "You know that this all was her idea? I would just as readily kill you for your insolence, but she practically begged me to spare your life. She would be my queen, and you could be our child-bearer."

With his hand resting on her shoulder, he kisses her neck. Mera lets it happen.

"Your child-bearer?" Arthur demands.

"He really knows nothing, does he?" Orm says with a sneer. His fingers trail over Mera's chest to her nipples. Her hips buck when he pinches them. "Why did you ever think _he_ was fit to be King of Atlantis if he doesn't even know our customs?"

Arthur yanks against his chains but there is barely any give. He can't get into Orm's face here like he did in the courtyard. Some sort of spell of gravity is keeping his back pressed to the altar beneath him. 

"Just do what you must," Mera throws over her shoulder.

"As you wish, my love." Orm presses another kiss to her jaw as he kneads her breasts and pushes her forward, almost nose to nose with Arthur.

They stare into each other's eyes for just a moment before Mera pulls Arthur's face toward hers and crushes their lips together. Arthur has always thought there is a spark between them but man, does she fan it to life. Heat shoots through his arms and legs and straight to the tip of his cock. If he thought she couldn't make him any harder, he is definitely proven wrong now.

Just as they are really getting into it, something slides against the underside of his cock. Mera makes a sound of discomfort as the pressure grows and suddenly Arthur feels it—feels Orm's cock rubbing against his own. It's almost too much, the heat of both of them. Not even the ocean surrounding him manages to cool him off. 

Orm eases himself into Mera as much he can with Arthur already inside her and Arthur tries not to think about how good the friction of it feels, but it is beyond difficult to ignore. Mera doesn't make it any easier on him, rocking her hips onto both of their cocks, moaning desperately and clutching ever tighter around him. It's no wonder that Arthur is starting to lose it.

Between Mera's hot embrace and the delicious drag of Orm's hard cock against his own, Arthur is defenseless against the orgasm that is building towards a crescendo, almost too quickly for him to fully realize it is happening.

Mera's core flutters around him as he comes inside her. The sensation ripples through Arthur, head to foot, shaking his tense limbs as if his brain were firing on all synapses, and for one exceptionally sweet moment it's like his consciousness shatters. He forgets all about where he is and how he got there, about who he is with and why perhaps he shouldn't be enjoying this as much as he does.

"Pitiful," Orm sneers at Arthur and Mera huffs as he pulls out of her.

"Don't be so harsh on him." Sweeping her hair back, she lets him kiss her and splay his hands across her ribs in a possessive gesture, as her chest rises and falls. Arthur doesn't like his attitude, but there's nothing he can do about it now.

"Go on, you've had your fun, my love," Orm tells Mera, trailing his hands down to her pelvis.

She elbows him. "This won't work if you rush me. You might want to get started without me."

"As you wish."

Until that moment Arthur couldn't have cared less about their exchange, yet the next he is rudely ripped from his blissful afterglow—the chains holding his ankle slacken, giving Orm the opportunity to spread Arthur's legs apart.

"Not even a brood pouch on him," Orm says, probing around the skin of Arthur's taint.

"The fuck are you doing, man?" Fuck those chains and fuck Orm's hand on Arthur's knee as well. Way to ruin his post-orgasmic haze.

"Guess we'll have to improvise."

Arthur feels his ass being spread apart and nudged with blunt fingers. "You gotta be kidding me."

"On the contrary, _dear brother._ I am quite serious about this."

"You're just gonna let this happen?" Arthur demands of Mera, who climbs off the altar to let Orm do as he pleases with Arthur's lower body.

"It is what is best for all our homes." A soft white glow surrounds her, as if she too would fight him if he tried to leave. Fuck. And he'd thought she was his ally. "I am doing this for Atlantis' and for Xebel's future."

"You call this diplomatic rape then?"

"You do not even know what honor is accorded you," Orm throws in, visibly piqued. He's prickly, that one. He sweeps his arm to the side, gesturing towards the rows upon rows of spectators that Arthur had helpfully forgotten were still watching. He feels very exposed all of a sudden. Orm hasn't even disrobed yet and is still outfitted with his kingly armor. The most he has done was unclasp his cloak that a servant is now carrying draped across their arm. Arthur's pants—or what is left of them—have bunched around his calves like leg warmers and fail to make Arthur feel any sense of modesty. "Each and every one of these people would kill to be in your place right now."

"Then why don't you pick one of them?"

"Because, brother," Orm says as he leans over Arthur, all but folding him in half, "none of them carry _your_ royal blood. You are best suited for this task. Think of it as honoring our mother."

Something thin slides into Arthur's hole, easily at first, then growing thicker and adding stretch.

"You people have a weird notion of honor," Arthur grits out through his teeth.

" _'You people?'"_ Orm wraps a handful of Arthur's hair around his fist. "You don't even see yourself a part of us, half-breed, and yet you tried to steal what is mine by right. I ought to have your tongue cut out for your insolence."

"Go ahead and do it if it bothers you so much."

"My wife is quite fond of you and would be loathe if harm were to befall you."

Orm grabs Arthur's hips to hold him still as he forces himself the last few inches inside. It burns something fierce in Arthur's gut, but he's not going to give Orm the satisfaction of acknowledging that.

"Just admit that you'd miss it if there was no one willing to talk back at you," he says instead.

Orm smirks. "I will bring you to heel yet."

Arthur groans with every snap of Orm's hips, reluctantly enjoying the abuse. The burning sensation slowly ebbs away and in its wake Arthur finds new pleasure rising. Somehow, Orm's cock feels insanely good inside him, almost better than when he was rubbing it against Arthur's length. 

Fuck, he's getting hard again. With the way Orm has bent in the shape of a pretzel, the tip of Arthur's cock is rubbing against his stomach. He might even be able to come like this. Especially if Orm keeps hitting that spot inside him that makes Arthur's vision white out.

Arthur's head falls to the side and for a second, he thinks his eyes must be playing a trick on him: Mera's eyes and hands are glowing as water swirls around her, but that is not what caught Arthur's attention. It's the long, thin appendage extending from between her thighs. He reminds himself that he's at the bottom of the sea, breathing water and that Mera's unusual anatomy is not the strangest thing he's seen down here.

"Are you quite finished, my husband?" Mera mocks as she circles Orm, the way he had done earlier. "I might lay my eggs inside you after all if you don't hurry. I bet your subjects would love to see _that._ "

" _Our_ subjects, my love." Orm takes one of her hands and presses his lips to her knuckles, managing to make it seem more threatening than tender. Then he cups her head at the base of her skull and kisses her deeply. His brows draw together and then Arthur feels something hot pool inside him. He doesn't want to think too hard on it.

Mera rubs Arthur's stomach as if he were a dolphin or something as Orm pulls out carefully, keeping Arthur's hips angled upward. Mera takes his place between Arthur's legs and he notices that the squiggles beneath him are slowly turning to red.

"Don't worry, this is not going to hurt," she says and her... organ? ...brushes against the inside of his thigh. It feels a lot more solid against him than he would have thought. He'd have expected it to be as flexible as the arms of an octopus, but it's more like—well, it feels more like a dick, to be blunt about it.

"Pain is the last thing I'm worried about," Arthur slurs, a bit hormone-addled. He wants to come, but he doesn't think that Mera's length is going to do it for him. He needs something thicker. Orm felt so good inside him and he wants that back.

Fuck, what is he even thinking.

Mera's appendage slips in without a hitch. It feels good sliding inside him. Anything is better than nothing. She is about halfway in when a vague burning sensation sets in again as she stretches him deeper than Orm could reach. Arthur throws his head back and moans, trying to spread his legs wider.

This seems to affect Mera too, for her breathing deepens and she curls over him as if she too is overwhelmed. She eases herself into Arthur slowly, thrust by shallow thrust, then stops when she is about three quarters of the way in. Arthur doesn't think he could have taken any more.

Mera is trembling above him, moaning loudly and throwing her head back against Orm's shoulder. Both their hands are pressed to Mera's abdomen, as if massaging it gently.

Then, to Arthur's surprise—though why should he still be surprised by any of this?—the base of Mera's appendage bulges to the size of a chicken egg. Oh no. A terrible feeling chills Arthur. Didn't Mera mention something about laying eggs? Is she gonna lay them inside? Now? At least warn a guy before you go and do that, freaking hell.

Mera looks ecstatic as another egg slides into the canal, pushing the other further along. Arthur watches with dawning horror as the eggs approach his opening. He knows what is going to happen next and yet his cock is _pulsing_ with arousal, what the fuck is wrong with him? Well, didn't he want something thicker? Prayers answered. Fuck.

The first egg presses up against Arthur's hole and he swallows. It's never gonna fit. And yet, he wants it to fit. Something must be in the water around here, because he's never wanted anything more in his life. He opens up to it, relaxing as best he can as the backed up eggs push it past his tight ring of muscles. He groans. Fuck, it's inside him, like one massive anal bead. And it fills him so good. Why hadn't he ever thought of inserting something by himself?

As the second egg finds its way inside Arthur, it pushes the first against his prostate. Waves of heat shoot across his skin. His spine arches off the altar and he is barely able to breathe anymore. Mera keeps his hips aligned with hers so that she doesn't slip out. One by one, her eggs stretch Arthur wide and fill him up, saturating him with the most intense pleasure he has ever felt and will likely feel.

It's both too much and not enough. Arthur can't take it anymore. He wants to come so bad, but somehow he knows that if he does, he will damage the eggs. And that can't happen. He'd rather die before he'd let them come to harm. 

Mera, on the other hand, looks like she has just found release, like she is positively glowing with it. She helps her last egg along with an expression of intense bliss on her face. Arthur can't mirror it. It has taken everything he has to accept even this many eggs. He is full to bursting. One more won't make a difference, he tells himself. He must take them all in, or else he won't be satisfied. 

As the last egg enters him, a sense of calm washes over him that is at odds with the raging desire he still feels. He is not going to be able to move for a while in this condition, so he'll probably have to breathe through it. His stomach is bulging, his skin raised with the outline of what's inside him, and Arthur finds himself in awe of that, brushing his fingers over the bumps.

Ever so carefully, Mera extracts her appendage from Arthur without stirring the eggs. Once it comes out, she slumps back against Orm, her appendage hanging limp and loose between her legs.

Orm carries her over to the servants, who have robes ready for her and clothe her again.

When he returns to Arthur, he takes out his junk again. Arthur frowns. He hadn't been able to appraise it earlier, but man, what's up with all these weird-looking fish shapes down here? The base of Orm's cock seems normal enough, but there is a long, tapering tip where the head should be that reminds Arthur of the limb of a cuttlefish rather than a dick. To think that that thing had been inside him...

A small shiver runs through him when he realizes Orm is gonna beat off on top of him instead of putting that thing back inside Arthur. He doesn't know whether what he feels is relief or regret. 

Their eyes meet as Orm is jerking off, his steely blue gaze full of barely concealed contempt. His jaw tightens as he comes, but his eyes don't soften. He pushes inside Arthur again and Arthur hisses at the sudden intrusion. He is full and tired and sore, and he can't take any more.

Orm coats the eggs inside Arthur with his seed and says, "You will want for nothing as long as you carry this clutch. Do not disappoint me. Do not disappoint _her_ again."

With that, he pulls back, tucks himself away and makes himself presentable before addressing the crowd again, thanking them for staying and blessing the conception of his heir with their attention or some other bullshit like that. The cheers and excited murmurs are loud now that the open ceiling lets the sound through again. Arthur had liked it better when he was able to ignore the spectators.

Thankfully, the walls and ceiling grow more opaque now that the interesting part is over. Mera is carried out of the chamber and the guards move closer to remove Arthur's shackles. Arthur is grateful for that bit of added comfort. Escape is no longer on the forefront of his mind. He wouldn't make it far anyway, lumbering about like a heavily pregnant seahorse.

All he wants to do now is rest and hatch these eggs.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "If This Ship Sinks (I Give In)" by Birds of Tokyo.


End file.
